Alternate Season 5: 5x02 Rage
by Colinsand
Summary: As Cordelia comes to terms with the changes that have happened in her absence Team Angel investigate the mystical cause of a spree of seemingly random acts of violence.
1. Overture

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to everyone who read episode one and especially those who took the time to leave a comment.

This is the second story in a series, so before reading this story it is advisable that you read episode one "midnight" first.

**OVERTURE**

Julie Marie Deacon was in the kitchen. She was 5 foot 9 tall, thirty-two years old, and had long brunette hair tied up in a neat bun. Today she was baking cookies. Chocolate chip. They were just about done. She was looking out the window, out at the back yard. The lawn was green and fresh under the bright California sunshine.

Julie was happy.

The Deacon family had moved into this new home just a couple of weeks ago. Julie already felt settled, she felt right. Life was treating her very well.

Judging by the wonderful smell the cookies were ready. Julie looked down, placing a hand on her abdomen, smiling. Three days ago she had found out that she was pregnant with a second child. Her husband Jeff had been thrilled; he'd hugged her and kissed her and told her he was the happiest man in the world.

Julie heard the front door open and close. The smile on her face broadened. She turned away from the window as Sara, her unbelievably cute and energetic seven year old daughter came bounding in. "Hey honey, how was school?" Julie crouched and gave Sara a big hug and a big kiss.

"I painted a picture," Sara grinned proudly. "Wanna see?" She looked up at mommy with wide eager eyes. Sara had inherited many of her mother's features; brunette hair, big green eyes, and that little dimple on her chin.

"I'd love to!"

Sara dumped her little backpack on the kitchen table and quickly opened it up to retrieve her latest work of art.

"Wow that's fantastic!" Julie enthused. To anyone else it would have been a very childish effort, but to her mother Sara's painting was a masterpiece. "Our new house," Julie smiled. The crude artwork showed the house and three stick figures of varying height; Mommy, Daddy, and Sara. "Well done, it's wonderful." Julie grinned and hugged her daughter. Sara was beaming with happiness.

"I have a surprise for you." Mommy walked across the kitchen, Sara following close behind.

"A surprise?" Sara asked, wide-eyed and curious. By the rather delicious smell she deduced the surprise would be something scrumptious.

"Surprise." Mommy's voice was suddenly angry.

Julie spun around a black handled knife in her hand. "Mommy!" There was a youthful scream.

An arc of blood splattered the window and floor.

A quiet thud. The small body had fallen to the floor on her back.

Julie lunged in, the knife held high over her shoulder. The blade came down, plunging, tearing. She brought the knife down again and again. Her face became spotted with red.

Fierce. Merciless Violence.

Suddenly Mommy froze. She shook her head. She tried to shake away the nightmare in front of her.

Blood.

So much blood.

Empty eyes.

Silence.

Tangy metal taste in her mouth.

The smell of burning cookies.

There was a clatter as the knife fell from Julie's hand to the floor. Her mouth was wide open in a soundless cry of despair.

A single tear rolled down her blood-splattered cheek.


	2. Act One

**ACT ONE**

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict upon which you are all agreed?" The Judge asked in a loud, official tone. The foreman, a tall blond woman, stood up straight.

"We have your honor," she said efficiently and glanced at the defendant for a few seconds. Then she returned her gaze to the judge.

"On the charge of murder in the second degree do you find the defendant, Michael Wade, guilty, or not-guilty?"

Charles Gunn knew there was no doubt what the verdict would be. The case was very straightforward, the evidence was overwhelming.

On an average Los Angeles afternoon Michael Wade, a twenty year old rising star of college football, decided to have a hotdog.

It was likely, Gunn thought, that no one would ever know how such a normal everyday occurrence had resulted in a horrific homicide. He had taken the case knowing it was a very lost cause. Michael's father knowing by reputation that the firm was the best in the city, had spent his life savings paying for the defense; not nearly enough however for Wolfram and Hart's more supernatural services. Gunn had tried his very best. He had presented the jury with character witnesses, statements and school reports; he had shown Michael to be a normal, popular, intelligent, peaceful young man who had never been violent in his life. But against the evidence, against the facts, there was no way that anything anyone could say or do would be enough to avoid a conviction. Michael had refused to accept what he had done and had insisted, despite Gunn's repeated advice, on a not-guilty plea.

The prosecution had absolutely no trouble presenting their case. Twenty-three eye-witnesses had been called, all had told the exact same story. The defendant had suddenly lashed out at the hot-dog vendor. He had knocked the man to the ground with the first punch. The witnesses then had gone on to describe the brutal, merciless beating. Michael had kicked the man to death. That was fact. The only point that mattered in this case.

After killing the man Michael Wade had fallen to his knees and cried. He had stayed, tears streaking down his face, until the cops dragged him away.

"We, the jury, find the defendant…" The woman made the obligatory dramatic pause. "Guilty."

Gunn looked at Michael's face. The young man was utterly devastated. He had been living a normal life, his future had been promising, a career in pro-football had been starting to look possible. Now that dream was gone. Shattered forever. The only future this young man now had was a very long time behind bars.

Gunn was still perplexed by the case. Why had Michael committed the crime? Why had he thrown his life away? Michael had said he had only hazy memories of the incident. Extensive physiological and psychological testing had found him to be perfectly sound of mind. He was not insane.

Michael Wade was a murderer. And now, whatever the reason, he had to pay for what he did.

Her apartment.

Her apartment at least was one thing that hadn't changed during her time away.

There was a knock at the door. When Cordelia Chase opened it she wasn't surprised to see who her visitor was. She had been expecting him to put in an appearance for some time.

"Angel."

"Cordy." He gave her an anxious smile. Cordelia looked tired. Her right arm was in a sling, healing slowly, at normal human speed.

"Come in." She opened the door wide. Cordelia wasn't particularly pleased to see him, she hadn't been particularly pleased at all since the night she had woken up from her coma a week and a half ago.

Angel and Cordelia sat in silence on the sofa. Angel felt very awkward. Once he had told her everything, the full story he had stepped back to give her some space. After dropping her off home a couple of days later he had told her to call him when she was ready.

She hadn't called.

"How are you feeling?" Angel finally asked.

"Better," she replied. "The doc said the break is healing well, four more weeks and it'll be good as new," she knocked on the white plaster cast. "Other than that, cuts and bruises are healing nicely, ribs still hurt a bit." Cordelia looked up at him, looking him in the eyes. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"I know. I killed a champion. The bad guys won." Angel was still sore from the clever manipulation that had been so simply carried out against him and the others. "We're looking into it though, we have some leads."

"That's great, but I didn't mean that. I meant the little deal with the devil you all made while I was out of action."

"Oh."

"What were you thinking?" Cordelia demanded. "Wait, I know. Connor," she sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe what happened to him is right, maybe it's right that he's out there living a normal life. But the price was too high Angel. Don't you see that? You are working for Wolfram and Hart! Don't you remember the hell they've put us all through?"

"Of course I do," Angel nodded.

"Then what are you doing working for them?"

"They're working for us."

"No, you're just in charge of a little piece. You are working for them, for the Partners." Cordelia had barely been able to believe what she was hearing when Angel had first explained all this to her. She had thought it was some sick, twisted attempt at a joke.

"We're making a difference. We're changing things."

"It's changing you. The Partners offered you a bit of power, solved all your problems, made your life easier."

"We have the resources to do more good that we ever could have done at the hotel." Angel could see Cordy's point of view, he had considered the situation and her arguments had crossed his mind more than once. He still believed that they had made the right choice. As long as they kept their wits about them then surely the decision had been the right one.

"You are now exactly where they want you to be. Look where it's gotten you already, you killed a champion of the Powers."

"It was your vision," Angel snapped, instantly regretting it. He paused, sighed and then continued. "I know I killed him, but there was nothing else I could have done. Your vision said the demon was the bad guy, he had already murdered a girl who I thought was innocent."

Cordelia sat back. The whole vision thing had been bothering her. She hated the fact that she had been played like that. The enemy, Angel's enemy, Wolfram and Hart's enemy, had used her to manipulate them. She wondered if at this point in time she was supposed to be still in her coma. Maybe she was supposed to have been in that coma permanently. But she was awake now. She had to deal with the world she had woken up to. "I just…it's Wolfram and Hart. We've been fighting them so long. They're the opposite of everything we stood for."

"What we stand for hasn't changed," Angel said "We fight the bad guys, we protect the innocent. What's changed is _how_ we fight. We can do incredible things if we can turn Wolfram and Hart's power to good. With that power we could truly make a difference."

Cordelia nodded, not in agreement but in acceptance. The choice had been made. It was too late. "It's done now."

"Yes, it is, and I am certain that we can do this, I'm sure that we're going to fight evil, just like we always have." Angel gave her what he hoped was his most reassuring smile.

"So…how's the investigation going?" Cordelia asked.

"We're having a meeting later to discuss it," Angel said, he was glad of the change of subject. "Do you want to come with?" He ventured.

Cordelia was taken aback by the suggestion. After a few moments consideration she nodded.

"Okay."

A short time later the senior staff of Wolfram and Hart, the former employees of Angel Investigations, were gathering in the conference room adjacent to Angel's office. Wesley and Fred both had a stack of documents on the table in front of them.

"Hard day?" Wesley asked Gunn as he settled into the seat to the Lawyer's left. Gunn was sitting to the left of the seat at the head of the table; Angel's seat. Fred was sitting across from Wes.

"Yeah, lost a case," Gunn shook his head. "Kid's gonna get life for a senseless, meaningless act."

The door opened and Angel entered, Cordelia following.

"Cordelia!" Wesley exclaimed, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

"How you doin'?" Fred leapt up and pulled Cordy into a big hug.

"Oh you know, surviving," Cordelia smiled half-heartedly. Here it was. It was real. She hadn't quite believed it until now. They really all did work for Wolfram and Hart. Angel had already explained to her everyone's role at the firm.

"Do my eyes deceive me?"

Cordelia turned around, instantly recognizing the voice behind her. Lorne was practically bounding towards her, a cheery grin on his ever-green features. "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Angel smiled, this was good, the gang was all here. This was right. Finally they were all together, a family reunited.

Except, of course, Connor.

"Okay, let's get started shall we?" Angel clapped his hands together. Lorne, Fred and Angel took their places at the conference table. Cordelia remained standing in the doorway.

It was real.

The madness Angel had explained to her was all true. Gunn seemed to have changed the most; The rather expensive suit, the way he was sitting up ready-for-business straight, the expression on his face. Something had changed in his eyes too. She could see…she didn't know. It was a kind of brightness. Cordy supposed that it was whatever mojo he had let the Partners download into his brain. Around the table they looked like they belonged. There was no edge, no fear. They were, _relaxed_, she realized. They had taken the great power offered to them and already they were comfortable with it. They were wielders of immense power, evil power no less, and they were comfortable. They should not be comfortable. They should be looking for the catch. They should be figuring out what Wolfram and Hart's plan was.

"Cordelia." Angel was looking over his shoulder at her from his chair at the head of the table. He motioned to the empty seat to his right, left for her by the others.

Right hand to the devil.

Cordy was surprised at that thought. Yes things had changed, and yes those changes were worrying, but when it came down to it they were still the people she knew and trusted. Weren't they?

Cordelia put on a smile and sat.

"Okay then," Angel said, "what have we got?"

"We've finished the clean up and have managed to put together quite a bit of information since the incident," Wesley began.

"Before the devices detonated this symbol was projected onto the wall," Fred said, passing everyone a picture of the symbol, a semi-circle with a little triangle underneath it, a triangle above it and a shaded circle within it, taken from the building's surveillance system. "We also found it painted on a wall at the Patrick house." The mention of that place brought back Cordy's horrific memories. The failed mission. The fall.

"Three days ago police found a body in Lincoln Park," Wesley said and handed out the crime scene photos.

"The guy who delivered the first bomb." Angel recognized him, still dressed in his red robes.

"He had the symbol tattooed on his lower back," Wes continued. "My department had been trying to place this symbol and earlier today we made a breakthrough. It took a lot of digging, but we found it. It is the symbol of an obscure Demon God named MalKlan. The information we've found on him so far is fairly sketchy. The robes the man was wearing are consistent with those of MalKlan's followers, as is his cause of death. He ritualistically committed suicide, ingesting a powerful poison and severing his right hand. MalKlan's cult is said to have died out around three thousand years ago. MalKlan himself was believed destroyed in the Demon Wars."

"The thing that was in Lucy Patrick mentioned a master," Angel said.

"It seems likely that MalKlan is that master." Wesley nodded.

"And he's had plenty of time to plan his big comeback," Gunn commented.

"Any idea what Lucy, the thing in her, actually did?" Angel fielded.

"When the devices detonated there was a shockwave of mystical energy," Fred explained. "However beyond that there is no trace that we can detect of whatever spell she did."

Angel nodded.

Cordelia felt a little different now. Now there was a name for the evil responsible for what happened: MalKlan. She also realized that some of her concerns regarding the team had been eased. Some of them. They were the people she remembered. They had changed, but at the core, stripped of detail and all the Wolfram and Hart shine, this meeting could have been just another Angel Investigations discussion about their latest case.

The meeting ended. Everyone was going to continue trying to find out more about MalKlan and what he and his followers were planning.

Angel offered to give Cordy a ride back to her place once she made it clear that she intended to go home. Cordelia smiled, "I'd rather make my own way home."

"Okay." Angel wasn't sure how Cordy felt about the meeting, or how she felt about being in the building and seeing everyone working here. "See you soon?"

"Yes. I'll give you a call in a couple of days." Angel's relief was clearly visible in his expression. "It's gonna take time. I still don't think this is right." She told him. "But I will call." And then Cordy stepped into the elevator, went down to ground, and left the building.

_1977_

The three of them appeared to be human. All three were tall, wide shouldered, had dark hair and brown eyes and had similar facial features. They were brothers, but they were not human.

The eldest, Hawk, lead the way, his siblings were following side by side a few steps behind him. The brothers were casually dressed, they walked tall, not arrogantly, but as if they belonged. No one questioned them as they walked down the brightly lit corridor of the hospital's maternity ward.

They were demons: A breed of Chaos Demons. They had taken human form in order to put their latest plan into motion. Once they were done here they would go into their hibernation cycle, a biological necessity of their species.

The eldest slowed his pace, senses alert, in particular he was focused on a supernatural sense. He was searching for a specific individual, an individual with the potential talent needed to carry out their plan. Once the right individual was near he would be able to sense it. All the omens were good that the one they were looking for would be here. His brothers followed him patiently. The eldest could feel that he was getting closer and closer to the target.

Suddenly he stopped. Yes. He could feel it clearly now. He signaled for his brothers to wait and opened the door that he had stopped beside and went in, closing the door behind him.

The younger brothers waited as instructed.

"If this works…" the youngest, Hugo, grinned excitedly.

"It'll work," the middle brother, Hank, said confidently.

A few minutes later their brother emerged from the room and flashed them a triumphant grin. "It's done," Hawk said and started back along the corridor.

"What's his name?" the youngest asked.

"Reynolds. Jake Reynolds."

The three demons, Hawk, Hank and Hugo, left the hospital and went to hibernate, knowing that when they woke up there would be much fun to be had.

Krevlorneswath of the Death-Wok clan was sitting back, relaxing, as Sunset Boulevard thrived with activity outside. Lorne was in a Wolfram and Hart limousine, he had it all to himself. He was on his way back to the office after completing a deal to finance a movie. Lorne had worked hard to persuade a few big name actors to commit to the project, but after calling in a few favors, and promising some too, the deal was done and all was well in tinsel town. Lorne contentedly sipped his sea-breeze, humming along to 'Fly me to the moon' which he had playing at a wonderful volume through the limo's stereo system. Lorne liked his job, heck he loved it. He adored the amazing people he got to meet everyday of the week; the brightest stars, and the most interesting individuals behind the scenes that the public would likely never know.

The limousine slowed to a stop at a red light.

Lorne felt a slight tingle at the edge of his senses. He took a sip from his sea-breeze as he looked out of the window at the car that had just pulled up alongside, a dark colored Porsche. The young male driver was bopping his head and singing along, presumably to the radio. Lorne picked up a rough sense of the man: Child of wealthy parents, student of UCLA determined to make something of himself. For some reason Lorne felt curious. He honed his senses in on the young man, he had a quite interesting aura. Lorne saw tragedy, future hardship, and after…triumph, success, happiness. Lorne was about to turn away from the man who's life would be one of struggle and eventual good when a horrible flash shimmered though his aura. Lorne jerked back, his glass falling to the limo floor, spilling its contents. His hands went to his temples, his mind overwhelmed. Then it stopped. Lorne sat back, he felt the blackness coming. The limo was moving. The Porsche pulled away and turned left. As the muggy dark flowed across his mind he saw the Porsche's license plate. Then all went dark.

Night had fallen on the city of angels.

Wesley brought his car to a stop. A short time ago he had received a very interesting phone call informing him that a body had been found. Nothing special, Wes had thought, until the police chief informed him about the tattoo. The dead man had the symbol Wolfram and Hart had asked them to look out for, the symbol of MalKlan, tattooed on his back. This had brought Wesley here, to this morgue. The body was inside. He got out of the car and went into the building.

His instincts immediately told him that something was off. There was no one at reception desk to greet him. "Hello?" Wes called. No reply came. He listened carefully. Other than the buzzing hum of the strip light overhead and the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall he heard nothing. "Anyone here?" Something was wrong. He slipped out his 9mm Beretta and flicked off the safety. Wesley took a deep breath to calm himself. He looked over the reception desk. There was no sign of the receptionist. There wasn't any blood or evidence of a struggle either. Taking cautious steps Wesley went through the door that led deeper into the building. There was a well lit corridor with several doors on both sides. At the end of the corridor was a set of double doors that he guessed led into the morgue proper. He paused. Still he heard nothing, no indication that anyone else was here. Slowly he made his way down the corridor, senses alert. He was particularly cautious when passing doors; it was possible someone was behind one of them, waiting to leap out at him. His mind was racing. There was certainly many many possible reasons to explain this situation. Not all of them involving malicious activity. Wes had a feeling however that something was very wrong and that somewhere danger was waiting for him.

He went through the double doors, ready to shoot if the situation warranted it.

There was no one else in the immaculately clean room, no one living anyway. Lined up along the far wall were the cold chambers. On the left there were two doors. One led to a spacious office. The other was marked 'Storage'. Looking through the large windows of the office Wesley could see that there was no one in it. Over to the right there was the examination area; there were two shiny metal tables and several trolleys stacked with various pieces of equipment. On one of the tables was a man, naked and lying face down. Wesley moved across the room to the body. On the man's lower back was the MalKlan tattoo. This man had been a follower of MalKlan. Wesley could see no injuries that would explain what had killed the man. He was about to start looking for the man's belongings when he heard a sound behind him.

Wes whirled round, his trigger finger tightening ready to fire.

Halfway round a punch impacted the side of his head. Wesley lashed out blindly with his left foot at where he thought the attacker was. He missed, and got a punch across his jaw for his trouble.

The attacker grabbed Wes's gun with his left hand and punched him again with his right. Wesley darted forward, swinging his left fist, again he didn't have time to take aim. The attacker blocked and spun, kicking Wesley hard in the chest and sending the former Watcher to the ground. Wesley, dazed and winded, was starting to push himself up when he heard a soft click. He looked up to find the barrel of his gun pointed squarely at his head. The gun was in the hands of a man in the earthy red robes of MalKlan's followers.

There was a single shot.

Bang!

Followed by the thud of body hitting floor.


	3. Act Two

**ACT TWO**

_1989_

The bell rang. Jake packed up his stuff and headed out of the classroom. He had to be out for lunch quickly, his mom was taking him to the doctor's about the headaches he had been having recently. He stepped out into the bustling corridor. As he hurried along he felt a familiar warmth in his head. Another headache coming on. Jake worried about them. He didn't like them. They usually only lasted a few seconds, a dark, hot, red, hateful pain. Jake paused, and closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind blank, trying to stop the hurt from rising within him again. But it was no use. There was no stopping it, there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly this one was worse than all the others before. His vision clouded red. A flash of agony burned through his mind. Jake collapsed, he didn't even have time to unleash his desperate, enraged, scream before the blackness took him.

In a seven-eleven just a block away from the school police officer Sam Alder had just walked in. "Twenty of the usual," Alder said to the Hispanic man behind the counter.

"How are you doing today officer?" the shopkeeper asked politely as he took the cigarettes from the shelf.

"Can't complain," the twenty-nine year old cop replied, "how's business?"

"Business is good," he nodded as he handed the pack to the cop. Alder handed over the exact change.

"And the wife?"

"Oh she's doing very well, the baby's keeping her busy."

"I bet he does," Alder smiled. He had a kid at home, four years old in a couple of weeks, he remembered well the joys of the first year. "Listen, we've got a stack of old clothes at home, nothing too fancy, Sam Junior has grown out of them so…if you want 'em…"

"Gee, that would be great."

Just moments later Officer Alder's partner, Ray, heard gunshots. He leapt out of the squad car, drawing his weapon and went into the store, ready to back up his partner.

Instead he found Alder standing, gun in hand, peering over the counter with a distant expression on his face.

"Sam?"

Alder didn't move. Ray slowly approached. "What happened?" Ray gasped as he looked down behind the counter, at the body. The body with the wrecked head, blood splattered all over the floor.

"I..." Officer Alder dropped his gun. He couldn't believe what he had done. "I killed him."

-------------------------- 

_2004_

Wesley jerked back, the gunshot ringing in his ears. To his pleasant surprise he wasn't dead. The red-robed man was on the ground, blood flowing across the floor from a messy head wound. The man had been shot. Wesley looked across the room and he saw her.

She was beautiful. Straight shoulder length dark hair, diamond-blue eyes, full lips. She was dressed in tight blue jeans, green t-shirt and a brown leather jacket. She appeared to be in her late twenties. In her right hand was a black six-shot revolver. "I've got his stuff," she motioned to the man on the table, "check him and let's go, more will be coming." She tucked her weapon onto the inside of her jacket.

Wesley looked at her, stunned. Then he moved into action. He had questions, but they could wait for now. He quickly got up onto his feet and searched the body of the man who had attacked him. He found nothing, no wallet, watch, or weapon. Wes reclaimed his pistol, put it away and nodded to the woman who had just saved his life.

The mystery woman lead the way out of the morgue at a rapid pace. "Hurry, they won't let us get away if we're here when they arrive."

"Who?" Wesley asked, as he walked by her side.

"MalKlan's followers."

Wesley realized that this woman may be important in uncovering the MalKlan situation.

They went out of the building and the woman lead him a short distance down the street to a green Ford Explorer. They got in, saying nothing as she drove them away from the scene.

--------------------------

"Angel, we need to talk," Lorne announced as he strode into Angel's office, a nurse from the infirmary close behind him.

"Mr. Lorne I must insist…" the nurse began.

"This is important," Lorne went right up to Angel's desk, where the vampire C.E.O was on the phone.

"I'm gonna have to call you back," Angel said to person on the other line, "I think something important just came up. Yes. I'll call you back as soon as I can." Angel hung up. "Lorne, what's the problem?"

"Sir, Mr. Lorne needs medical attention."

"What happened?" Angel asked Lorne.

"Psychic overload, head's killing me," the green skinned demon rubbed his temples. "I'll be fine, nothing a couple of day rest and a few G&T's can't solve."

"After he's told me what he needs to tell me he'll be back in the infirmary." Angel said to the nurse.

"I will?" Lorne said

"Yes."

"Alright, but make sure he does, we need to make sure that there isn't any serious damage," the nurse said.

Angel nodded, and the nurse left.

"Okay, what is it?"

And Lorne told him.

--------------------------

"Where's Wes?" Angel asked as he entered the conference room and noticed the firm's head of research was missing.

"He's out following a lead on MalKlan," Gunn reported.

"Okay, he'll have to catch-up when he gets back." Angel sat at the head of the table. "Lorne suffered a psychic overload, he's okay, the docs are running a couple of tests to be sure," Angel said. "The guy he read suffered some sort of shift in his aura. All of a sudden something changed. Lorne saw that at some point tonight the guy is going to murder people."

"Why?" Fred asked.

"That's the strange thing, Lorne said that the guy is going to kill them for no reason, that some sort of…rage will come over him and he'll just...kill."

"Demon influence?" Gunn pondered, and found his thoughts turning to the case that he had just lost.

"Lorne thinks so, some sort of psychic force is going to make this guy go nuts."

"I had a case this week where a guy suddenly killed a man, no reason. Might be that Lorne's thing isn't an isolated case."

"You look into that, incidents of sudden, uncharacteristic violence." Angel said, "Lorne managed to get the guy's license plate…"

"I'll get us a name and address," Fred said.

"Right, then we'll go find this guy and try to stop him," Angel nodded, pleased to have a plan of action.

--------------------------

Daniel Forrest looked at himself in the mirror. He ran his hand through his short dark hair and breathed deeply. This was a very important night for him. As he gazed into his own diamond-blue eyes he nodded slowly. Tonight he would be making his final commitment to the cause. He turned around, looking over his shoulder to examine the two-day old tattoo: semi-circle, a little triangle underneath it, a triangle above it and a shaded circle within it. The symbol of MalKlan. He nodded again and then turned back to face himself, looking into the reflected eyes.

"Forgive me for all I am about to do."

He remained standing, staring for about a minute and then with a final sigh he turned away.

Daniel put on his shirt and buttoned it up. He grabbed his tan colored jacket and left the motel room that for the present time was home.

--------------------------

The woman was driving around, seemingly without any particular purpose or direction. Wesley recognized that she was using counter-surveillance techniques; doubling back, checking for tails, making unexpected turns and so on.

"May I ask where we're going?" Wesley finally asked.

The woman gave him a quick glance. "Somewhere safe. Somewhere we can talk."

Wes could tell that was all he was going to get from her for the time being. He was intrigued. Who was this woman? How was she connected to MalKlan? Did she know anything that could help him find out exactly what his followers were up to?

He was patient. He could wait a while longer to find out the answers.

--------------------------

Angel slowed the car as he passed the tall gates. This was it, the address of the car's owner, Max Serra. The house was big, bordering on mansion-sized. A big white Georgian style building; symmetrical, the front door was adorned with a column on either side of it. He noted the security cameras at the gate and continued along the road for a short distance before pulling over to the side.

Angel climbed out of the Dodge Viper, one of his favorites from his collection provided by Wolfram and Hart. He had no idea what to expect. He had to prevent Max from killing anyone. He was well armed, and ready for anything. The property was surrounded by a twelve foot high wall topped with metal spikes. He saw no sign of cameras anywhere other than the main entrance. The gate and wall looked mostly for show, to add to the grandeur of the home. Like so many of Hollywood's wealthy inhabitants appearance seemed to be everything to this family, but as so often was the case it was just a façade.

Angel approached the wall, looked up it, dropped into a crouch and then propelled himself up the wall, vaulting over the top and avoiding the spikes easily. He landed silently, dropping into a crouch to absorb the impact. He glanced around, looking for guards. There was one a hundred meters away, patrolling the perimeter, walking away from Angel. Angel took up position beside the trunk of a large tree so that it was between him and the guard.

There was a lot of noise coming from the house, thumping music, voices, laughter; a party in full swing. He could see the front drive of the house was littered with more luxury automobiles than Wolfram and Hart's garage.

Angel glanced down, he was hardly dressed for a glitzy Hollywood bash, so there was no way he was going to be able to blend into the crowd. He had to find Max, quickly and quietly. Being that either he or his parents were hosting the event it was likely Max would be found right in the middle of the party. Angel would have to hope that he had an opportunity to grab him before the killing started.

Moving as quickly as he could while remaining silent Angel returned to the perimeter wall. He sprinted alongside it, following the guard that had just passed him. Angel slowed slightly as he approached the guard, who was dressed in the dark blue uniform of a security company; clipped to his belt was a radio and a holster containing a pistol. The vampire hit the guard hard and fast, striking him on the side of the head with his fist. With a quiet grunt the guard collapsed, unconscious. Angel kept moving, following the wall and keeping an eye on the house. He was going around to the back of the house, the noise of the party was coming from the back gardens. He knew that he couldn't go all the way round, the back was well lit, he wouldn't be able to approach the house without being seen. He stopped halfway round, crouching against the wall, taking cover in a wide clump of bushes. He looked at the side of the house. There was a window, slightly ajar on the second floor. That was his way in. The house was about a hundred and fifty meters from his position. There were three tall, thin trees between him and the house, other than that it was a flat lawn, with a couple of decorative mini-spotlights lighting up the building.

A guard rounded the corner from the front of the house, sticking close to the building. "Hey Roy, you see the size of the cake they got here, freaking huge." The guard said quietly into the radio. "Roy?" Angel guessed that Roy was the guard that he had taken down. If he didn't move fast the alarm would be sounded and his mission compromised.

However at this distance there was no way for him to get to the guard without being seen by him.

"Roy, answer me dammit!" the guard hissed into his radio.

Angel looked up and down the side of the house. No sign of anyone who might see him. Angel's left hand was resting on a knife concealed in a sheath at the small of his back. It would be the quickest and easiest way of dealing with the guard; throw the knife into his throat. But the last thing Angel wanted to do was take that action, killing an innocent man was not an option. Taking innocent life was never an option.

Time was running out. He had to go for it. There was no choice. He would have to risk running out into the open and chance that he would get to the guard before he could yell out, and/or draw his weapon.

Angel whipped out the knife and hurled it in one fluid motion. An instant later he darted forward.

The guard saw a flash of silver as the light reflected off the spinning blade. His eyes followed it all the way to it's impact on the wall of the house to his right, the butt of the knife thudding as it hit.

The guard reached for his weapon with his right and started to bring up the radio clutched in his left hand as he shifted his gaze to the direction the knife had come from.

Angel slammed his fist into the guard's left temple, sending him spinning to the ground. He looked round again, checking that he hadn't been seen. Quickly he dragged the unconscious guard into the bushes. The concealment wouldn't stand up to any proper search, but Angel felt it would be adequate to buy him time if the guard's absence was noticed.

He ran back to the side of the house and leapt up, grabbing the ledge of the window with one hand. Angel pulled himself up, pushing the window fully open, and entered the house.

--------------------------

Sitting in the living room of his apartment, Jake Reynolds was watching T.V and munching on a bag of chips.

He grimaced. A sudden tingle crossed his forehead.

He knew what that meant. Another one of his mystery headaches that doctors had been dismissing as psychological for years. He hated them. He wished that the pain would stop its random appearances.

Lately they had been getting more painful, and more frequent. His last one had been only yesterday.

He hoped that this one would break the pattern and not be as bad, but he believed that in reality that it would follow the trend.

--------------------------

Angel gently closed the window behind him. He was in a spacious bathroom, all marble surfaces and shiny fixtures. He crouched and became statue-still, listening for any sign that anyone had heard him come in or that the alarm had been raised.

He couldn't hear any movement nearby, but the noise of the party was loud, maybe loud enough to mask the footsteps of a possible guard. Angel crossed the bathroom and hit the light switch, plunging the room into shadow. He listened at the door. Still he heard no sounds indicating anyone was out in the hall. He slowly opened the bathroom door. Cautiously he ventured out into the hall.

There wasn't a moment to waste. The event Lorne had warned about could occur at anytime. Angel headed for the back of the house; he was alert, ready to react if he spotted anyone that was a threat to his secrecy.

--------------------------

Max Serra looked out across the garden, a glass of very expensive champagne in his hand.

He was delighted at how the party was going. Max glanced over to the swimming pool close to the house. On the far side from where he was standing was Melinda Pearlman chatting away with a couple of other guests. Max had known her for as long as he could remember, their fathers were business partners. It was generally expected by both families, though never said aloud, that they would end up married. Looking over at her now Max certainly hoped this would indeed be how things turned out.

A strong hand landed on his left shoulder; bring him out of his yearnful daydream.

Max turned to face his father. Orson Serra was strikingly handsome with a full head of short dark hair. Max had inherited his looks from him. "She's a fine young woman." He said with a smile, Max looked away for a moment, which broadened Orson's grin. "Right son, time to cut the cake I think. I'll get your mother. Ready for your speech?"

"I'm ready." Max nodded. He was nervous, desperate to impress not just his mother, on this, the day of her fortieth birthday, but Melinda too. He hoped that she'd find him witty and charming.

He composed himself as his father went to get his mother and Max started his journey around to the other side of the pool, the side nearest the house. There the cake had pride of place in the center of the party's catering display.

Max walked, going over in his head what he was going to say. He drained his glass.

As he approached the spectacular four-tiered creation he swapped a passing waiter his empty glass for a full one. He stood in front of the cake. On the table that it was perched on, to the right of the miracle of bakery, was a knife with a beautiful handle; white, ornately carved with a dove in flight. It was a family heirloom.

Max went to the right side of the table and faced the rest of the party. He saw his father and his mother taking up a central position, both beaming with pride at him. Max smiled back and took a big breath. It was time for the big event. He glanced to Melinda and then loudly asked for everybody's attention.

--------------------------

Angel was in a bedroom at the back of the house. The large size of the room lead him to believe that it was the master bedroom of the house. The music from the party had quietened. Angel looked out of the large window, down at the party. He spotted Max immediately, standing separate from everyone else, who had gathered around him and the impressive cake. The young man was addressing the crowd, in particular a woman. Angel saw the family resemblance, she was likely his mother.

There was no way that Angel could get him now without causing a major commotion. He took a step back. His options were few: He could go now and grab Max, knock him out and run with him. The problem with that scheme was he was likely to encounter resistance from other guests and probably security too, and he wasn't confident that he would be able to get over the perimeter wall with Max weighing him down.

He could wait and watch and at the right moment make a sneaky grab, disabling Max, preventing whatever was going to happen.

Or he could go down there and try talking to people, explain the situation. Angel doubted anyone would listen to him.

Max was delighted. His speech was going brilliantly.

"Mom, if you could come and join me, I think we'd all like to wish you a happy birthday." Max grinned and held out his hand

The gathered guests clapped and cheered and then erupted into rousing song. For a moment Max caught Melinda's eye. He was sure that her smile widened a little. His stomach fluttered.

Angel looked out as the partiers sang, desperately trying to figure out what to do. He stared at Max, the young man grinning and leading the crowd.

Bright colors, beautiful clothes, gorgeous food, balloons, smiles, cheers… It was hard to believe that terror and death was going to shatter it all.

--------------------------

Jake gasped.

It was here.

He closed his eyes, grimacing, both hands pressed against the sides of his head.

It hurt. Oh, it hurt so much.

Then came the red. A flash of intense scarlet filled his vision.

Everything became agony.

--------------------------

"Time to cut the cake mom, if you'd do the honors," Max said as the song ended. He reached for the knife, taking it in his right hand. He turned to face her, her expression was one of utter joy and happiness. She reached to take the knife.

"What you said was wonderful. Thank y…"

Her words were cut short. The knife slashed deep through her throat.

No one could believe what was happening.

"Max!" Orson Serra exclaimed as his wife fell. Dead. Blood splattering.

Max looked at his father with pure hatred. He dashed at him and stabbed him in the chest, driving the knife in.

At that moment Angel landed on the patio in a hail of shattered glass.

Angel leapt forward and grabbed Max. Orson fell, gasping, blood gushing from his chest.

Max roared in anger.

--------------------------

Jake roared in pain.

--------------------------

The partiers were gasping, yelling, screaming, shouting.

"Max! Stop!" Angel pushed him towards the house, putting himself between the enraged young man and everyone else.

Max snarled and charged forward, swinging the knife wildly. Angel remained still until the last moment: He stepped forward, delivering single punch to Max's face.

Max went down. He didn't move.

"No," Angel said under his breath. With his foot he rolled Max onto his back, revealing the white handle of the knife protruding from his chest.

Max's eyes opened.

A cough. Blood seeped from between his lips.

"What…I…" Max gasped, eyes wide.

"It's okay," Angel said as he crouched. "It's all okay."

Max looked Angel directly in the eyes. Angel saw terror, fear, in those eyes.

Then the eyes went blank.

Angel closed Max's eyes and stood. He looked at Max's father unconscious and bleeding. Chances were he wouldn't make it.

"Call nine-one-one," Angel commanded. Several people were already calling the emergency services on their cells.

A guest who was a doctor rushed forward to attend to Orson Serra.

Angel looked round, looked at the two bodies, and at Orson as the doctor worked to try and stop the bleeding.

He vowed to find out who, or what, was responsible, and put a stop to this madness.

--------------------------

At last the woman pulled into the parking lot of a motel in the outskirts of Los Angeles. She parked and, without saying anything, she got out of the car. Wesley followed.

The woman lead him up the stairs to the motel's second floor and into room 102. She locked the door and turned on the lights.

The room was typical motel room fare; bed nightstand, table, couple of chairs, mini-fridge, bathroom. The only possessions belonging to the woman Wesley could see was a duffel bag on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Take a seat." She motioned to the chairs at the table by the window.

Wesley sat taking the chair that allowed him to see the door.

"Drink?" the woman asked. "I've only got water I'm afraid."

"No, thank you." Wes replied He had things he wanted to asked her, but he decided to wait and find out what information she would offer him of her own accord first.

The woman joined him at the table after pouring herself a glass of water.

Wesley's first impression of her held. She was beautiful and her intense eyes spoke of action and purpose.

She took a sip of her water, and then asked, "Who are you?

"My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, I work for Wolfram and…"

"Hart," the woman interrupted. "Part of the new management."

"Yes."

"Okay. I guess it was only a matter of time before our paths crossed, especially since MalKlan's group is so intent on involving you."

Wesley was certain now that this woman possessed information that would shed light on the shadows surrounding MalKlan and his followers.

The woman took a gulp of water and nodded. "My name is Imogen. My mission is to eliminate the threat MalKlan poses to the world."

"Everything we've been able to find on MalKlan indicates that he was destroyed during the Demon Wars."

"In truth he survived, at least that's what we've picked up from his followers. So far there hasn't been any absolute proof. It seems that MalKlan wasn't destroyed but banished somewhere, another dimension, another world, we don't know where or how or who put him there." Imogen paused to take another sip of water. "His followers are fanatical. Ever since his banishment they have been working on a plan, a plan devised by MalKlan, to bring him back. As best as we can guess it looks like MalKlan almost managed to gather the power to seize the world, but was stopped just in time and imprisoned. If freed now, without the Powers, or other demon gods, to stop him, he'll be able to finish the job and reign destruction on all."

"MalKlan must never be allowed to return." Wes nodded. "How do you know so much? What is your involvement in all this?"

"As long as MalKlan's followers have been trying to bring him back others have been trying to make sure they are never successful. Generation after generation of my family have worked, dedicating their lives to figuring out what MalKlan's plan is." Imogen clearly was proud of her mission. "Over recent generations activity has increased. My father finally came across a follower and captured him. He managed to discover that the time for MalKlan's single opportunity to return would be soon. Activity over the past few years suggests that he was right, that MalKlan's followers are in the final phases of their preparations, that they have emerged from hiding to put in place the final pieces of the plan."

"How many of you are there?"

"In the interests of our safety I'd rather not say."

There was an uneasy pause.

"Followers of MalKlan attacked Wolfram and Hart, used us."

"I know all about what happened. I have a contact at the firm," Imogen smiled. Wesley couldn't hide his surprise, especially since they had only recently conducted a through check on all Wolfram and Hart staff to root out the evil at the L.A. branch of the firm.

"I've got contacts in the police, FBI, CIA, MI5, InterPol, all over. All giving me any MalKlan related info they come across. That's how I knew about the body at the morgue."

Wesley began to say something, but Imogen silenced him by holding up her hand.

"You're going to propose an alliance, for me to join you, tell you everything, fight with you."

Wes nodded. "It certainly seems that such an alliance would be beneficial. Your additional information, our resources and manpower, together we could prevent this."

"It's too dangerous." Imogen shook her head and look down at the glass in her hands.

"Dangerous how?"

"I'm not sure if I should trust you, I don't know if I can trust you. I know I can't trust the people you work for."

Wesley understood her reluctance, Wolfram and Hart hardly had a reputation as being and honorable and righteous organization.

--------------------------

Daniel Forrest arrived at his destination, the parking lot of a mini-mart. The store was closed. There was only one vehicle parked outside it; a large white van.

He checked his watch. He was exactly on time. Good. He would have hated to be late. Daniel was nervous enough already. He needed to prove himself tonight.

As per his instructions he banged his fist three times on the back doors, paused for a count of three, banged again, paused for another count of three and banged a final two times. Daniel stepped back and waited. He looked around anxiously.

The door opened. There was a single man inside, all the way in, facing him, sitting cross-legged. A lantern in front of the man provided flicking illumination.

"Get in," Adrian Wallace commanded. He was dressed all in black, his expression calm, business-like. Daniel could tell that he was a man of power. He had never met this man before but he knew that he was high up in the ranks of MalKlan's followers, possibly right up at the top.

Daniel got in and sat across from the man. Wallace gestured and the doors gently closed.

Wallace smiled. He so enjoyed the nerves and anxiety of new recruits.

"I'm told you are a man of intelligence, a man of dedication. A man who can do what he is told." Wallace stared at the lantern as he spoke. "These things must be true or you would not have made it this far." Wallace then looked the young man right in the eyes. "One thing remains, to prove yourself worthy to serve MalKlan, are you ready?"

"I am ready," Daniel nodded, trying his best not to let his nerves show. He knew that this man could kill him at any moment if he wanted to.

"I hope so." Wallace reached behind him and produced a small backpack. "There is a homeless man sleeping amongst the trash around the back of the store. In this bag is a dart gun loaded with a single dart of a paralyzing agent. You will shoot him in the thigh. There is also an axe in the bag. You will use the axe to remove the man's right hand. You will then take out the bottle of lighter fluid, empty it on him and light it with a match. Watch him burn. Once he is dead, come back here and give the hand to me. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Daniel held the man's gaze, determined not to show any sign of weakness.

"Go. Don't take too long. Know that you are serving MalKlan in what you do. You will be rewarded greatly."

Daniel nodded. He took the bag. The doors opened. He got out and the doors closed again.

Daniel took a deep breath and started towards the store.


	4. Act Three

**ACT THREE**

"What have we got?" Angel asked as he entered his office. Gunn and Fred were waiting by his desk.

"It doesn't look like this is an isolated case. In fact it's possible this has been happening for a long time." Gunn reported. "The trouble is we can't know for sure, or find which incidents are connected. All we have to go on is uncharacteristic violence. I seriously doubt that all outbursts of violence can be connected. There are hundreds of thousands of possible matches, and right now we have no way of narrowing it down to any that might be related to the Serra case."

"Okay. Let's focus on what we know for sure. Max is dead. Killed his mother before I could get to him, his father probably isn't going to make the night," Angel said as he slumped into his chair behind his desk.

"Psychics say they detected a flash of…rage. They say it didn't last long enough for them to get any kind of location. They're on alert if it happens again, hopefully they'll be able to get a read on it. I'm gonna try and see if I can come up with some way of detecting it too, but without knowing what I'm looking for I'd say it's pretty much impossible."

"Damn," Angel sighed. "What about Wesley?"

"He's not back yet," Gunn replied.

"The research department is already working on it, but they haven't got anything yet," Fred said.

"Fine, keep working. We need a link. I'm going to ask around the usual contacts, see if they can think of anything that might be causing this." Angel stood. "How's Lorne?"

"He's sleeping it off, no permanent damage," Fred said.

"Good. Let's go to work."

--------------------------

"Here," she set a glass of water down in front of him.

"Thank you," Wesley took a drink as Imogen sat down across from him again.

"I believe I can trust you Mr. Wyndam-Pryce." Imogen looked him in the eyes.

"You can."

"I think I need to take the risk because…now the enemy is so big. I don't think we can do it alone."

"We can beat them together."

"Our alliance is between me and you. Not me and your firm," Imogen said. "Who will you tell about me?"

"Angel, my boss."

"I've heard a lot about him, he has quite the reputation. You can tell him. But no one else."

"I trust…"

"No one else," Imogen insisted. "The danger is too great. We will be in contact with each other, exchanging information regularly. We can set up some emergency protocol in case something major happens. There must be no record of our contact at Wolfram and Hart. No record at all."

"What is it? What has you so scared? Who is in danger?"

"My brother. Daniel. Right now he is undergoing his final initiation, he is undercover within the followers."

"And if they find out about you that could well lead them to him." Wesley understood her fear now.

"It's taken a lot of time and effort. We've been incredibly careful, but now he's almost in. Hopefully after tonight we'll be able to start figuring out the details of what MalKlan's followers are doing."

Imogen leaned forward. "If they find out about him he's dead. They must never find out about him."

"I'll keep you out of records. When I discuss it with Angel we'll do it somewhere safe."

"I'm taking a huge risk with you Wesley." Imogen reached over and took his hands and looked into his eyes. "My brother's life is in you hands. My life is in you hands."

"I give you my word. I will never allow you or your brother to come to harm though my actions."

"I believe you." Imogen sat back and pulled out a cell phone from her pocket. "In two weeks I'll get in touch with you on this." She slid the phone across the table to him. Wes took it. "At midnight, in exactly fourteen days. I'll only call once. If you don't answer the deal's off."

"Understood."

"Time to go. Don't come looking for me. If you do, deal's off." Imogen stood, grabbed her duffel bag from the end of the bed and opened the door. "I believe this can work. I believe we can stop them. The world needs us to stop them."

"We will."

Imogen gave him a final intense look and then she was gone.

--------------------------

Adrian Wallace looked up as he heard Daniel the rookie banging on the van doors. Wallace inhaled deeply. Yes. There was the scent of smoke and burning flesh.

With a wave and a smile he opened the doors. Daniel's clothes were spotted with blood, there were a couple of drops on his cheek too. He held the pack in his right hand. In the other he had the severed hand of the homeless man. Daniel got into the van. Wallace closed the doors.

"You would not be human if you did not feel as you do now. Focus on the greatness that you are now dedicated to. Rejoice, you are worthy, fit to be in the service of your god."

"I am proud to serve," Daniel forced himself to sit up straight, forced back the revulsion he felt about what he had just done, the terrible suffering he had just caused. He almost vomited just thinking about it. The burning. The stench. The blood. The helpless look of absolute despair on the man's face, a look that begged him to stop.

"Most things MalKlan asks of you will not be so difficult. Participation in some rituals, transportation of certain items. Those will be your general duties. It will be hard work at times, and failure in anything is unacceptable. The great and powerful MalKlan will not suffer failure."

"I will never fail my god. My life is MalKlan's"

Wallace reached over and took the pack and the hand from Daniel, and set them down on the floor of the van. From behind him Wallace grabbed another pack. "Here is a change of clothes. Get changed. Go back to the motel. Shower. Sleep. In a few days you shall be contacted."

Daniel took the pack and nodded. "I live to serve."

He'd done it. He was now an initiated follower of MalKlan.

--------------------------

After twenty-seven years of slumber the three chaos demons, Hawk, Hank and Hugo, were back in L.A, back to finish the plan they put into action way back in '77. Dressed in matching dark blue suits with pale blue shirts they walked casually down the hall of a modest apartment building.

Hawk stopped outside a door. "Here," he said and nodded to Hugo. The youngest brother crouched in front of the door, slipping a lock-picking kit out from his back pocket. After a few seconds he turned the knob and pushed open the door slowly. The door was stopped when it was open only a small crack. There was a chain on the door. Hugo stood. He glanced around and then allowed the index finger of his right hand to revert back to its demon nature, turning grey and elongating, ending in a nasty looking claw. The index claw of their particular species was equipped with a venom glad containing a highly potent acid. Hugo touched his claw to the chain, releasing an ample amount of venom to do the job.

The chain smoked and hissed as the venom quickly ate through it. Within seconds it split apart. Hugo grinned and allowed his claw to revert to its human disguise as he looked to his eldest brother. Hawk returned the grin and nodded. "Good work." Hugo stepped aside and Hawk stepped forward to take his place. Hank tapped him on the shoulder.

"Can I?" Hank asked enthusiastically.

Hawk considered for a moment, looked up and down the corridor, and then nodded. "Do it quickly."

Hank's eyes and grin widened.

Gracefully and near-silently he dashed inside the apartment. Straight ahead at the end of the hall was the living room and kitchen. There were three doors in the hall, one on the right, two on the left. The door on the right was slightly ajar, Hank could see that it was the bathroom. He stopped at the first door on the left. He took a hold of the handle. Gently he turned the handle and he quietly went into the room. Hank's eyes flashed green, his demon enhanced vision allowing him to see perfectly well in the dark.

This was a bedroom. In the double bed slept the owners of the apartment. Hank licked his lips and crept to the right side of the bed. The man was on his back, snoring softly. The woman on the other side of the bed was curled up on her side.

Hank grinned and stepped forward.

--------------------------

_10:00am._

A loud and persistent bzt bzt bzt bzt bzt bzt bzt woke Cordelia from her peaceful sleep

She got up, she got dressed. Tasks made difficult by her still healing arm.

Cordelia made herself breakfast; cereal, a couple of slices of toast and a glass of orange juice. She put on the news as she ate.

She felt she was starting to get used to doing things without the use of her right arm. It was tough, no doubt about it, but she was surviving, getting on with things the best she could.

"Top story this morning; Three dead in horrific murder/suicide at the home of Oil tycoon Orson Serra. During the fortieth birthday celebrations of Mrs. Lillian Serra her son Max brutally slashed her throat and stabbed his father, Orson Serra, before turning the blade on himself. One witness said that the attack was brutal, swift and completely without provocation. Police say they are working on finding out the reasons behind this tragic event and will be holding a press conference at midday."

Cordy used the remote to shut off the television. She wasn't in the mood to find out what other terrible things had gone on in the world during the night.

She instead put on the radio and listened to it as she ate.

Cordelia wanted to call Angel, wanted to see them all She missed them. She missed the time that she had lost. She wanted nothing more than to be back with the gang, have a vision, figure out what it meant and stop the bad guy.

Those days however were gone. They had all moved on, they all had new lives now, and she wasn't a part of any of it.

Despite having been there and seen them in their new positions she still couldn't quite believe it was reality. They were all exactly where they always dreamed they would be.

Angel, in charge of something big, an organization with the ability to cause real change in the world, to have a real influence on a massive scale.

Wesley now had an epically huge library at his disposal twenty-four seven.

Fred, with a lab, follow brainiacs to hang with and the resources, had everything she needed to make all that she had in that brilliant brain of hers into reality.

Gunn now had a place where he could be appreciated for something more than his skills with his fists. And he also had the extra smarts and legal knowledge to be an intellectual leader.

And Lorne, Lorne was in his element, celebrities, megastars, the greatest entertainers in the world were on his speed-dial. He was making huge waves in the industry.

Cordelia wondered what apple Wolfram and Hart would have tempted her with. Greatest actress in the world? Enhanced psychic abilities? The power to heal?

But it didn't matter now. For them it was done, it was past. They had taken what was offered to them. They had been enjoying their shiny new lives for three months.

She had no idea how to fit in with them, how she could possibly… Wolfram and Hart! They were evil, the most insidious, vicious evil she had ever encountered. Cordelia had suffered at their hands, they all had. It was wrong.

They were still good people, they were still noble and heroic, still trying to do the right thing. But Cordelia couldn't shake her terrible fear that slowly, subtly, they would be changed.

Power corrupts.

It was an old cliché, but now Cordy saw them with all that power…she couldn't get away from the fear that it would corrupt them.

Cordelia finished her orange juice, completing her breakfast, her mind was racing, struggling to think what she should do, how she should deal with the fact that she had woken up in an upside-down world.

--------------------------

The muggy haze of pollution made it no less of a spectacular view, a monument to human achievement. It was a sunny, sunny day.

Which still made Angel uneasy, even behind the protection of the necro-tempered glass.

He was in a typically brooding mood. Last night's deaths weighed heavy on his mind. Three innocent people had died because of his indecision. He wondered if the job was getting to him, if the huge scale of it was making him over-think and over-analyze, when he should act instead.

Next time, he knew he would have to trust in himself to do the right thing without having to analyze every angle to death.

Angel was also frustrated that no progress had been made on finding the cause of the rage that had overcome Max Serra. His night of asking around his contacts, old and new, hadn't resulted in any leads, though a few were able to confirm that they had picked up some kind of psychic burst, and that it had happened before, at least twenty or thirty times, maybe more, and that every time that it had happened it had been stronger. Unfortunately no one had any idea what force might be behind it.

At this point they didn't even know if it was some kind of natural phenomena or magic related, or if it was accidental or deliberate.

There was a third thing on Angel's mind, this one unrelated to the psychic rage.

Cordelia.

Angel wanted her back on the team. He wanted her back with him on this journey he was now on. He wanted her advice, her thoughts, her spirit and dedication back in the gang. And he wanted her friendship and…No. There was little point in hoping that the spark between then would still be there. Too much had happened.

--------------------------

Daniel Forrest hadn't slept well at all. He had tried and tried, but had been unable to get what he had done out of his mind.

He had murdered a man. He had tortured a man. He had done it in the name of evil. In truth he had done it for the greater good. He doubted that would have been any consolation to the homeless man as he burned to death, unable to move, unable to fight, looking up at the man who had set him alight.

Sure he had hurt people before. In his efforts to be accepted into the fold of MalKlan's followers he had had to walk the walk and talk the talk. He'd hurt people. But they had been thugs, people who most likely deserved it.

Last night Daniel had murdered an innocent man for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And he had no doubt that now that he was a follower of MalKlan he would be asked to do more things that were just as evil, probably things that were far worse. Daniel had to live with the fact that to defeat a monster he was going to have to become a monster himself.

He had taken an innocent life. The first of what he was sure would be many.

The price for fighting evil was high. Daniel had never imagined when his father had first explained the family duty to him that the price would be as terrible as this.

Even though he was feeling utterly drained he had to head out into the world. He had to signal to his sister that he was alive and that he had made it, that he had succeeded.

He had to take a walk to a small park that was a short walk away, get himself a hotdog from the stand and eat it on a nearby bench. Daniel wouldn't see his sister, they both believed that MalKlan's people would be watching him, but she would see him.

He washed up, and promised himself that he wouldn't let her see how much last night was getting to him.

--------------------------

Jake Reynolds felt awful. He had called work, telling them that he was too ill to come in today. He was lying in bed. He felt achy all over, and he was being overwhelmed by a chilling sense of dread.

Last night's headache had taken a lot out of him.

He wished they would stop. He wished they would go away. Every day, for as long as he could remember, he had lived in fear of them. He often asked: Why? Why did he have to suffer? Medicine and science said that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. Shrinks told him that if he wanted them to go away, they would.

Jake wanted them to go away. Yet still they came. Still the pain tormented him.

Jake lived as best he could. He had a steady job as a fact checker for a newspaper. His approach to the job was to have as little interaction with people as possible. They gave him the piece to check. He checked it and sent it back corrected.

He wasn't a people person. People got freaked out by his seemingly random and causeless cries of pain.

Jake had no real friends.

His relationship with his family was pretty much non-existent these days. They all thought he was faking, though they never came out and said it, apart from one time a few years ago when his mother had finally said it during a heated argument.

Jake lived the best he could. He believed strongly that one day he wouldn't hurt anymore.

Through the way he was feeling today fed the little doubt that was always at the back of his mind. The doubt that said this was it; this was his life.

And lying there, looking up at the ceiling, Jake Reynolds hoped and wished for freedom from his life of random pains.

He sat up. He couldn't just lie here wallowing in self pity. He hadn't made it this far by just giving in to what was happening. Jake took deep breaths, steeling himself for the extraordinary effort that getting out of bed would be.

--------------------------

"Not too long now," Hawk smiled, looking over at Jake's apartment. "Today for sure." He glanced over to Hank and Hugo who were watching cartoons on T.V. "Have you thought of a good location yet?"

"Oh yes, nice and public," Hank grinned.

"Good."

"How long?" Hugo asked.

"A few hours yet. Sometime this evening. Then…" Hawk clapped his hands together, "…chaos will reign in Los Angeles, and we will feast like never before."

--------------------------

"Come in," Wes said in answer to the knock on his office door.

"How's it going?" Angel said as he entered and shut the door behind him.

"Too well I'd say. The number of possibilities…"Wesley motioned to the piles of paper on his desk. "Could be magic, could be an individual doing it deliberately or accidentally, an attack from another plain, a psychic event of some kind…Angel, until we know more we're guessing."

"I know, Fred and Gunn have already told me. I wanted to ask you about last night, did you get any leads on MalKlan?"

"I…" Wesley had been waiting for the right opportunity to approach him and tell him about Imogen and her brother. "There is…" Wes was cut short by the trill of his phone ringing. Wesley picked it up. "Research department. Yes, he's here." Wes looked to Angel, "It's for you."

Angel took the phone. "Hello?"

"We have a call for you sir, a Miss Cordelia Chase is on the line."

"Put her through." Angel waited a few moments.

"Angel?"

"I'm here Cordy. It's good to hear your voice."

"You too."

As was becoming the norm between them there was an awkward silence.

"Uh… how you doing?" Angel finally asked.

"I'm okay…I…I was wondering if maybe you wanted to meet up today?"

"Actually I…" Angel shook his head. He had been about to say he was too busy. "That would be great, you want me to send a car round to come pick you up?"

Cordelia didn't respond for a few seconds.

"You still there?" Angel asked.

"Uh, yeah, still here it's just…I'd rather not…meet you at Wolfram and Hart."

"Okay, no problem. Where do you want me to meet you? Your place?"

"No, actually, I think I know the perfect place."

--------------------------

Jake stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and started to dry himself.

He was feeling a bit better, not so achy, not so lethargic. The shower had sure felt good. His sense of dread though was still as strong as it had been earlier. He could feel…something. Almost as if something was building up, but it felt different from when a headache was coming on.

"Not too long now, half an hour, an hour at most, then he'll be ready, and it'll be time to make our move." Hawk said from his position at the window.

"This is gonna be so much fun!" Hank exclaimed.

"Storm's coming," Hugo said with a sly grin.

"Chaos is coming." Hawk nodded.

--------------------------

Cordelia paid the driver and then stepped out of the taxi. She looked up at the building; Angel was probably already inside. She went through the gate and continued towards the entrance. After taking a deep breath she walked up the steps to the front door.

"I figured you'd be here first," she said as she stepped into the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel.

Angel was sitting on the reception desk. He looked up at her and smiled. Seeing her standing there, be could almost imagine it was as it had been before. She smiled right back at him, she was as beautiful as ever.

"You look good."

"So do you," Cordy replied as she walked towards him. She stopped as she reached the reception desk. "Could you...uh..." She motioned to the desk and her injured arm.

"Sure." Angel quickly went round behind her and helped her up onto the desk and then sat back up beside her.

"Thanks." Cordy looked at the slung arm. "Wish this would hurry up and heal already." She suddenly looked up, looking him right in the eye. "You know that they're up to something, that the path you're on is the one they want you on."

"I know."

"I don't need to tell you what the road to hell is paved with. Angel, they know you, they knew exactly the buttons to push to get you signed up at Wolfram and Hart."

"I know. They wouldn't be doing this without an agenda."

"That's the thing, they knew you'd know and still they did it. They must be so sure that their plan will work that they gave you the keys to the kingdom knowing full well that you'd be looking for a trap."

"I know. But it won't work. Cordy, I am not going to be swayed. No matter what. The mission is the same, it's never going to change." Their eyes were still locked. Angel wanted more than anything to tell her much he needed her, how terrified of walking this path without her he was. But he held back.

"I can't just stand aside and watch. I've decided to take your offer. Once I'm back to full strength I'm going to sign on the line and stand at your side."

A grin broke out on Angel's features. "Cordy that's…"

"I'm not doing this because I think it's right. I'm doing it because no matter what happens I will never forget that beyond all the fancy toys and power Wolfram and Hart is evil, and that they are going to do their damnedest to get you on their side when the final day comes. I am going to do everything I can make sure you stay a champion."

"So am I," Angel nodded. "I've already picked my side. If this big apocalypse ever comes, I'm on the side that will never give up. I will fight evil until I'm dust, protect those who need protecting. Help the helpless."

"Every step now is a step higher, a step closer. I can feel it Angel. This path…it's the longest, hardest path."

"Hardest and longest," Angel said and nodded. "The path I gotta take."

Cordelia reached with her hand and rested it on his hand. "Always remember, never forget. You are a champion. No matter what comes, you can't ever give up."

"I won't," Angel promised.

And he meant it.

--------------------------

There was a brisk knock at the door.

Jake groaned. He really didn't feel like seeing anyone today. He decided to ignore it. Whoever it was could come back later if it was something important.

Knock, knock, knock.

A sigh slipped from Jake's lips. He listened for a few seconds, holding his breath. When no further sounds came he released it.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

"Go away!" Jake commanded in an almost silent whisper.

"Jake Reynolds, we know you are in there," a male voice called from out in the corridor.

Jake was now standing in front of the door. He figured it was probably a salesman trying to trick him into opening the door and listen to his pitch. Something about the voice told him that its source was not someone who was going to just give up and go away. Jake stood there. Unsure if he should respond. All he knew was that in his current state he did not want to see anyone.

"We are here on important business, business relating to your health. A serious matter, I believe you know what I am referring to."

Jake took a couple of shocked steps back. The man couldn't possibly know about his headaches. He couldn't.

"The pain you suffer Mr. Reynolds, the pain that's been with you all your life."

Jake shook his head.

The dread within was still as strong as ever. But something else was being stirred by the voice at the door:

Hope.

"Mr. Reynolds, I know you can hear me." Knock, knock. "We think we can help you. We can take them away."

Hope.

"We can take them away forever."

Jake stared at the door. His heart was racing. Could it be true? Could this really be the day?

Outside Jake's apartment Hank was about to say something but was silenced by a gesture from Hawk.

"Wait. We have him," Hawk whispered. Hank nodded and grinned.

He'd always hoped. He'd always known the day would come when the suffering would end. The sense of dread didn't seem to matter anymore, not now that there was hope that it would be over soon.

Jake opened the door to reveal three tall, dark haired men dressed in dark blue suits. "Do you mean it?" Jake asked shakily. "Can you really make them go away?

"I think we can, yes," Hawk said with a smile. "We are from the Hawk Foundation, a specialist neurological research organization. Recently we have been investigating unusual, extremely acute, pain. In particular, pain that does not seem to have either a psychological or physiological cause."

Hank almost burst out laughing at his ridiculous little story, but managed to keep a straight face.

Hugo stood in silent admiration as his older brother spun the story to the target.

"We believe that you suffer from such a condition, is that correct?" Hawk's tone was calm, level, professional.

"Yes, yes it is." Jake flicked his eyes between the three, too scared to allow himself to believe this was really happening, that someone was telling him that they believed him and that they could fix him.

"We felt we should come and see you as soon as we concluded that you are a compatible candidate for our procedure. Unfortunately we must rush off to another appointment," Hawk continued. Jake's expression fell, the hope threatening to flee again. "However we will be available to discuss the details with you, in depth, later today. It might even be possible to carry out the procedure itself tonight." The hope once more flared bright. "I'd like to keep things as informal as we can at this stage. Perhaps we could meet at say… four o'clock, in the north food-court at the Sunrise Heights Mall."

"Sure, yes." Jake replied. He wanted this done as quickly as possible. He wanted to be free. He wanted to live a normal life.

"That's great," Hawk grinned, "four o'clock it is, we'll see you then." And with that the three men turned away and walked down the corridor. Jake watched them until they rounded the corner, heading in the direction of the stairwells.

Jake closed the door and leaned against it. Excitement and relief surged up within him, making him forget all about that troublesome dread.

It was really going to happen. After so long…soon it would be over.


	5. Act Four

**ACT FOUR**

_Darn_, thought Cordelia as she looked through the clothes hung on the rack. Three months absence from the world had clearly resulted in a serious gap in her knowledge of fashion trends.

After leaving the hotel Cordy had decided that it was time to reacquaint herself with the exquisite joy of retail therapy.

She pulled out a hideously bright purple and green zigzag patterned summer dress. "This so better not be hot right now," she scowled distastefully and returned the dress to its place on the rack.

--------------------------

Wesley closed the book he was reading, satisfied that it contained no information that would help them to narrow down the cause of the psychic rage.

He reached for another volume. The phone on his desk rang.

--------------------------

Gunn was the last of the gang to arrive in Angel's office (Lorne was absent as he was still resting up from his psychic overload). He noticed that a figure concealed in a thick black cloak had also been invited to the party. "What we got?" Gunn asked.

"Psychics have got something," Wes motioned to the cloaked figure.

"The source is a man," a muffled monotonous voice said from within the hood of the cloak.

"Who? Where?"

"Unknown. There is an anomaly building."

"Another attack?" Gunn hoped that this would be it, their opportunity to put and end to the senseless killing.

"No. Different. More. An extremely powerful psychic disturbance."

"Any idea where this disturbance might be? Where the guy that's causing it is?" Angel pressed.

"No," the psychic shook his head. "Perhaps if I go in search of it I may be able to sense my way to it."

"Hound dog approach," Gunn nodded, "sounds worth a shot."

"What do we do when we find him? We'll need a way to contain or redirect this energy." Fred said.

"Yes," Wesley said with a thoughtful expression. He looked to the psychic. "With a psychic assisting it is possible we could come up with a spell."

"Right," Angel stepped forward, taking a more commanding position in the group. "Wes, Fred, you two work with the psychics see if you can come up with a way of getting this energy out of a person safely. We don't know if he's a bad guy or just someone who's caught up in this by accident." Wesley and Fred nodded. "Gunn, you're with me."

--------------------------

Jake treated it like just another day. He was too scared to act any different. What if today really was the day? What if when he woke up tomorrow the pain was gone and would never come back?

He took a bus to the mall. Sitting there he couldn't stop thinking about the future, about what his life could be like without the constant fear that at any moment a headache could render him useless.

Sitting in the seats across the aisle to his left was a young couple, leaning into each other, holding each other, whispering quietly to each other. Both were smiling. In front of them was a middle-aged man reading a newspaper. In front of Jake a teenager was bopping his head to the music from his iPod. Every one of the other passengers was a normal person, a normal person with a normal life and all the ups and downs that entailed. Jake didn't have those things. His life was at a constant middling level. The headaches kept him in a limbo-life. He'd been denied so many things; he'd missed out on so much. All because of this fear: the fear of the pain striking him down, of everyone judging him because the awful pain seemed to have no cause at all. Jake didn't want to miss out anymore. He wanted to have a normal, happy life. He wanted to be just like everyone else.

--------------------------

"Left." The psychic said in a hurried, yet dull, tone. Angel turned left.

"Are we getting close?" Gunn asked from the back seats. The psychic up front beside Angel didn't respond. The psychic was sitting absolutely still, his pale hands held up in front of him, palms facing the windshield.

"Energy growing." One of the psychic's fingers twitched. "Right."

Angel took the next right turn, hoping that this wouldn't turn out to be a wild goose chase.

--------------------------

"How about these?" Hawk asked his brothers.

"They're…" Hugo began.

"I'm still not convinced they're a good idea." Hank shook his head.

"These will do fine." Hawk grinned. The three brothers were looking at each other in the full length mirror, all three were now wearing black wrap-around sunglasses. "If you're going to bring down a city like L.A., you gotta do it in style."

Hugo checked his watch. "Twenty minutes."

"Good" Hawk's grin widened.

--------------------------

Wesley nodded. "I think we're on to something here," he flipped a couple of pages of the volume he was reading and quickly made a few lines of notes on a large notepad.

"Do we have all the ingredients we'll need?" Fred asked. "Wait. Wolfram and Hart." She smiled and looked over at Wesley. He returned the smile.

"We just have to be sure about the spell."

"You are on the right path," the psychic said from his position over by the window of Wesley's office.

"Right, well, let's be quick about this then."

--------------------------

Cordelia sat down with a cup of coffee and a donut, taking care to place her shopping bags on the floor at her feet. She looked around the mall's food court, the people around her munching on burgers, fries, slices of pizza and other equally nutritious and enticing foods. She was pleased with her haul. Three new tops, two skirts, and shoes, a gorgeous pair of black heels.

A guy sat down at the next table along. He didn't have any food and he looked nervous as hell. He looked all around, looking at the people. It didn't take much for Cordy to know that he was looking for someone, someone that he urgently wanted to see. Then suddenly he sat up straight, stiff as a board. "Oh no, no, not now, not now." Cordelia heard him say. "Not now!" he hissed. His left hand gripped the side of the table tightly; his other hand was rubbing at his forehead. She was reminded of the way that she acted when she was having a vision. The man groaned, gripping the table tighter.

Cordelia stood and approached him. "Hey, are you…" He looked up at her his eye wide, face red. It was clear to see he was in agony. "I'll call for…" A loud scream distracted her attention.

She looked up. Over by the pizza counter people were backing away from a young woman in a pink blouse and jeans. At her feet was another young woman. Pink blouse was stomping on the other woman again and again. Stomping on her head. The victim screamed again, and then was silent. But the woman in pink continued to stomp stomp.

"Stop it!" Someone yelled. Pink blouse looked up. Cordelia had never seen such a horrible look of pure rage on the face of a human before. The woman lunged at the nearest person, flailing her fist, punching the man repeatedly in the face despite his attempts to fend her off and get away. A couple of men moved in and tried to pull her away. She screamed in anger and continued to lash out, punching, kicking, scratching, clawing.

The young man sitting beside her yelled out in pain. Cordelia looked down at him, and then back at the violent scene unfolding before her. She realized that there had to be a connection. "What's happening?" Cordelia asked him. He shook his head, now both hands were pressed tightly against his temples.

--------------------------

Hawk was leading his two brothers, the three of them all now sporting their brand new designer shades. As they approached the food court they heard the commotion.

"Sounds like the fun's already begun," Hank said cheerfully.

"Just the warm up," Hawk said calmly, "the real show can't start without us."

--------------------------

"The mall," the psychic said.

"Which mall?" Angel immediately started working out the nearest malls to their current position.

"Sunrise Heights. Rage. The energy. Stronger. Much stronger."

Gunn got out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial. "Wes. We have a location. Sunrise Heights Mall. Psychic says the energy's still building up. We should be there soon. Right." Gunn leaned forward to report to Angel. "Wes and Fred have the spell just about ready, they'll meet us at the mall as soon as they can."

"Good," Angel nodded as he floored the accelerator, eager to get to the mall and prevent any further harm to innocent lives.

--------------------------

"Damn it, no chance we can pull this off quietly," Hugo sighed as the three chaos demons came into sight of the commotion.

"You two, get this place cleared out," Hawk ordered. "Make sure we don't get any interference. I'll take care of our boy."

--------------------------

The young man looked up at her, whatever had been causing him so much pain seemed to have gone.

"Are you okay?" Cordelia asked, before realizing what a silly question it was. She picked up his cup of soda. "Here." He took the drink and sipped through the straw.

"Thank you," he said when he had finished. He looked over to the gathering of people. There were two people on the ground not moving, a further two were sporting bloody injuries. The woman who had seemingly exploded into a random fit of rage was also on the floor, she was crying and spattered with blood; blood that wasn't hers. He stared at the scene. And he began to grasp that it was connected to him. To the headache. And if this headache did this then the others…

"What's your name?" Cordelia brought him out of his thoughts.

"Jake. Jake Reynolds," he replied, looking at the kind stranger.

"My name's Cordelia. What happened?"

"My…head. I get headaches sometimes. Painful. Very painful."

Cordelia regarded him with sympathy, it was a situation she could relate to. "And do people always psycho when you have these headaches?" She motioned to the scene.

"No…I…I don't know. As far as I know this hasn't happened before." Jake looked at the blood. It was possible. It was possible that every one of his headaches had caused something like this. It couldn't be coincidence.

"I know someone who can help," Cordelia said and started to reach into her bag for her cell phone.

"That won't be necessary," a male voice said from behind her.

"Dr Hawk," Jake breathed, his expression becoming one of relief. "I just had another headache and…"

"I know Jake. Don't worry about a thing. It will all be over soon."

Immediately Cordelia knew something was off. This Dr Hawk fella had an air of oddness about him, and in her experience that meant trouble. Cordelia noted that there were two other men, both of them dressed identically to Hawk, they were sitting on the floor at the edge of the food court. Both had taken off their sunglasses. Cordy's suspicions were confirmed as one of them pulled out a piece of chalk and drew a quick circle on the ground while the other pulled out a vial and scattered its contents in the circle.

"Jake, don't trust this man. Something's not right here," Cordy turned back to the young man.

"Everything's fine Jake. Trust me. The procedure can begin right away." In a quick gesture and murmur of incantation Hawk tossed a handful of powder on Jake. Cordelia didn't like the look of that powder one bit.

"Jake, listen to me…"

"Jake, this girl is not a doctor, I am. I can cure you." Hawk implored.

Jake looked between the two of them for a couple of seconds, and then his eyes settled on Hawk. "What do I have to do?"

"No…" Cordelia began and was silenced by threatening look from Hawk.

Hank and Hugo chanted together. This spell had been prepared in advance. It was designed to make all humans in the area suddenly be compelled to be elsewhere, effectively clearing the place and making sure there would be no interference from meddlesome or curious humans. The powder Hawk had tossed on Jake had too effects. Firstly it made him immune from the spell, since the three demons were very keen for him to stick around, and secondly it connected him to it, so that the demons could use his psychic abilities as a way of mass broadcasting the compulsion to leave.

The brothers both sprinkled another vial of powder into the circle and then Hugo tossed in a piece of Lethe's Bramble, a common ingredient in mind control spells, particularly for memory. In this case the brothers wanted the humans in the area to also forget anything they may have seen or heard in connection to their activities.

After a few more words of incantation Hank pulled out a box of matches, lit a match and tossed it into the centre of the circle. The ingredients in the circle ignited and burned bright green for a second. When the light faded a puff of smoke rose from the circle.

"It's done!" Hugo called over to the oldest brother.

Jake felt a sudden tingling in his head. He didn't know it but what he felt was the spell filtering though him and then out into the minds of everyone in the mall.

Cordelia stood up, her eyes glazed.

"Where are you going?" Jake asked her and reached out to touch her arm. As he did several grains of the immunity powder landed on her. She instantly looked at him, frowning.

"I don't…" Then she looked over to the brothers, and then to the crowd who were now all walking calmly away, including the woman who had suffered the fit of rage. One of the two injured people on the ground started crawling slowly. The spell was the last straw. Something was definitely very wrong here. "Jake we have to get outta her. Now."

"I think not." Hawk was standing behind Jake. He allowed his hand to shift to its demonic form and gestured his claws at the young man's head. The threat was clear: Keep quiet or I'll kill him. "Sit down. And we can get this over with. You want that don't you Jake? You want to be free."

Jake turned to look at Hawk, who had returned his hand to its humanoid state, and nodded. "Yes."

Hawk whipped off his sunglasses and smiled. "I promise, after today you'll never suffer another headache again."

Cordelia had a seriously bad feeling, but she had no idea how she could possibly help the young man. She looked down at her arm encased in its cast. Without it maybe she might have been able to do something; with it she was helpless to fight.

--------------------------

"How long?" Gunn asked from the back seats. Angel swerved around an oncoming car.

"Ten minutes, if I can get us there in one piece," Angel replied, foot firmly on the gas pedal.

"The energy grows," the psychic murmured.

--------------------------

"Damn it!" Wesley banged his fist on the table making Fred jump. "Sorry," he gave her an apologetic look. "We're close. If I can just figure out…" Fred reached over and patted his hand.

"We'll get it," she said with a warm smile.

--------------------------

Hank and Hugo had cleared a space in the food court, pushing a fair number of the tables and chairs over to one side.

Meanwhile Hawk had positioned himself between Cordy and Jake, making sure Cordelia didn't attempt to further interfere with his plans. Hawk had considered killing her, but that would mean losing Jake's cooperation, and this whole thing would go substantially smoother if the young man continued to cooperate.

"We're just about ready to begin Jake," Hawk smiled.

"This…Uh…This procedure…What exactly does it entail?" Jake was becoming rather concerned about all this. While the promise of a cure was extremely tempting, something seemed a little off about all this.

"I understand how odd this must all appear Mr. Reynolds. Let me assure you that while this procedure is certainly radical it is completely safe and it will work," Hawk once more assumed his business-like tone. Hank and Hugo were now setting up a couple of tables in the middle of the open space, placing them end to end.

"All set br…erm…Dr Hawk," Hugo called.

"Excellent." Hawk stood and motioned over to the tables. "If you'll come this way, we'll get started."

Cordelia also stood. As Hawk and Jake started towards the table she backed away, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone as she did. She hoped to slip away and call in Angel to the rescue.

"Hugo, look after our friend here," Hawk gestured over his shoulder at Cordelia. She stopped in her tracks. One of the other blue-suited demons, she presumed Hugo, looked up at her and flashed her a grin.

"Gladly."

Cordy sighed. _Guess that plan's out_.

"On the table Jake."

Jake nodded and followed Hawk's instruction. This didn't feel right. No. There was something decidedly wrong with this Dr Hawk and his identically dressed associates. His earlier sense of dread was back. "I'm not sure I…"

"Lie back Mr. Reynolds. This will not take long. I promise." Hawk said firmly. Jake did as he was told. He told himself it was just nerves. It was something to be nervous about. A mysterious procedure that would cure him of an affliction he had suffered all his life; It was perfectly understandable that the tension of such a huge event in his life would make him nervous.

"What are you doing?" Cordelia asked Hugo, they were sitting on a table at the edge of the cleared space.

"You'll see soon enough," Hugo replied. "Now keep quiet and enjoy the show or…" he let the sentence trail off, his brown eyes briefly flashing with their natural demonic green.

"Close your eyes. It will be time to begin in a few minutes," Hawk said to the young man looking up at him. Yes, this was it. In just a few minutes the psychic forces that had been building up inside this man since his birth would be ready for release.

Hawk remembered the conception of this great scheme thirty years ago; the three brothers had marveled at the chaos they could cause. It had taken two years of searching for them to find the right child with the potential to be their instrument of chaos. Within Jake was an inherent psychic gift, an ability to channel psychic energy. A rare and powerful gift. If he had been trained correctly he could have become a master in the psychic arts. A powerful seer, telepathic, telekinetic…he could have been a great force. But Hawk had performed a quick spell that robbed him of that potential future and instead channeled his gift into slowly, bit by bit, gathering psychic energy within him. That hadn't been enough though. Hawk had also pulled off a second piece of magic. He had dictated the purpose of this psychic build up. He had given it to rage. Of course such immense power is not easily contained. Every so often some would seep out, a brief flicker. Hawk had known this would happen and was not concerned by it. It would not be enough for anyone to home in on Jake. It's only effect would be to cause someone, somewhere, to suddenly be filled with an uncontrollable rage.

Now the final stage was here. After twenty-eight years it was time. The brothers' plan was this: Release all the rage within Jake in one almighty explosion. Every single mind in Los Angeles would be filled with rage. The chaos would be immeasurable. There would be riots of a scale never before seen on the planet. There would be blood, there would be death. Utter chaos. Exactly what the brothers lived for. It would be the most fun they could ever imagine.

"Hank, be ready. He now shines like a beacon," Hawk motioned to Jake, he was speaking quietly, so quite that Jake's human ears would not be able to hear his words. "Some may come to try and stop us. There must be no interference."

Hank nodded.

Hawk turned back to Jake. It was time. "Relax Jake. It is time to begin."

--------------------------

"Where in the mall?" Angel asked as the car raced across the parking lot, heading straight for the entrance.

"Unknown," the psychic responded. "Time is short."

"We really need a location. It's not exactly a small place." Angel said.

--------------------------

"Relax Jake. Take slow, deep breaths," Hawk said as he nodded to Hank. Hank pulled out a piece of chalk and drew a wide circle around the table.

Jake was feeling anything but relaxed. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, he could hear every beat. He was trying his best to steady his nerves, but so far they refused to be steadied.

"Jake I want you to imagine you are standing on a beach," Hawk said softly. Hank was going around the circle placing clear crystals about the size of a silver dollar at equal distances around the circle's circumference. There was no ritualistic reason for Hawk's words, they were purely to keep Jake cooperative and calm while Hank was setting up.

"Not long now," Hugo said in a sing-song voice. He grinned at Cordelia.

Cordelia looked right back at him, holding the demon's gaze. This was her one chance. Her left hand was closing round the handle of a white plastic fork that was on the table they were sitting on. Hardly the best of weapons, but since she intended to go for one of the demon's eyes it suited her purpose.

"You're not going to win you know," Cordelia said defiantly.

Hugo laughed. "There will be such chaos. It will be wonderful!"

Cordelia swept up with the fork, the three prongs heading straight for Hugo's right eyeball.

Hugo jerked his head back and at the same time tightly grabbed Cordy's wrist. "Nice try," he mocked and squeezed hard. Cordelia winced in pain and dropped the plastic fork. The humor was gone from Hugo's expression, the face before her was one of malice. "I will relish in your suffering," Hugo hissed.

Cordelia said nothing. She stared back at him. Threats from a demon were hardly new to her.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. Your friend and my colleague are just chatting. Please remain calm Jake. Imagine the warm glow of the sun." Hawk glanced over, making certain Hugo had the girl under control. He then checked on Hank's progress. He had finished positioning the eight crystals and was now going anti-clockwise around the circle, stopping at each crystal for ten seconds to recite a short verse.

The ritual had begun.

"Keep thinking about the beach Jake. A gentle cooling breeze, the crashing of the waves, the smell of salt in the air…" After such a long wait Hawk was finding himself becoming impatient. So close now. Close to turning Los Angeles into a chaotic hell. From a pocket in his jacket Hawk took out a black crystal, this one slightly larger than the eight around the circle.

--------------------------

Angel dashed into the mall using a large blanket as cover from the late-afternoon sun. There was still about an hour and a half until sunset. Once inside he discarded the blanket on the floor. Gunn and the psychic entered the mall right behind him.

"Blood," the psychic said. "Blood has been spilled."

"Is that where he is?" Angel asked.

"Yes."

"Can you track it?" Gunn asked.

"It's what I do." Angel nodded and his face shifted to it's vampire form.

--------------------------

Hawk placed the flat black crystal on Jake's forehead. "Relax. It will be done soon. Relax."

Hawk then began reeling off the incantation. He stepped out of the circle as he spoke and started walking round the edge. The words were in the language of his species, a rising and falling of harsh sounds.

A thin tendril of blackness slowly seeped skywards from the crystal on Jake's forehead.

_No. This is wrong_. Jake felt terrible. This couldn't be right. Jake tried to sit up, tried to open his eyes. To his horror he found he couldn't do either.

"Why can't I move? What's happening?"

Hawk ignored the human's panicked questions. It was too late for him to cause any trouble.

Jake tried again and again, but his body failed to respond. No! No. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

The black tendril continued to rise. Hawk's incanting suddenly surged to a crescendo as it stretched to about a meter above Jake. Eight forks of white energy shot out from the tip of the tendril, striking the eight crystals repeatedly.

Hawk was speaking quickly now, his voice near-shouting over the crackling of energy.

There had to be something. Cordelia just couldn't do it, she couldn't sit idle and do nothing. But with the demon beside her observing her closely there was nothing she could do except watch as Jake suffered.

The eight crystals exploded simultaneously in a blinding flash of red.

Hawk stepped back. The circle sparked and cracked with red energy. Slowly, from the top, the black tendril began turning red. Once the red touched the black crystal on Jake's forehead it would be finished.

At the same instant that the crystals exploded the psychic accompanying Angel and Gunn suddenly collapsed, a wide spray of blood erupting from within the hood of his cloak.

"That's not a good sign," Gunn commented as he and Angel paused to look at the fallen psychic.

"Let's go," Angel said and resumed following the scent of blood.

--------------------------

Wesley wrote a few final words and then set down his pen. "I think we're done," he said with a sigh of relief. He began to quickly read over the spell he had created.

"Chopper's waiting for us on the roof, ready to go as soon as you're sure," Fred said.

"Time is short," the psychic said. "The energy has already killed my colleague."

Wesley hurriedly finished reading through the spell and nodded. "I wish we had time to test it, but I'm sure it's right."

"It'll be right, you've done the work," Fred smiled. "Let's go."

--------------------------

Hawk, Hank and Hugo watched as the red continued ever closer towards the crystal. At current speed they estimated it would be about five minutes before the ritual was complete.

"We got company brother," Hank said. Hawk looked over.

Angel and Gunn closed in on the food court. It was obvious from the lightshow that this was what they were looking for. They stopped, surveying the scene. Angel could smell right away that the blue suited trio were demons.

"Cordy…" Angel's face reverted to human. He couldn't fathom what she was doing her. Her presence, under guard of one of the demons, made the situation even more complicated. He decided that he needed to distance himself from her, to not let the demon's know that they knew each other. The two demons beside the lightshow looked over at him and smiled.

"And who might you be?" One of the demons asked.

"Angel, CEO of Wolfram and Hart."

"Of course! I should have known something this big wouldn't get past you guys. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Hawk, and these are my brothers Hank and Hugo." Hawk grinned and motioned to Jake. "Not long now, you're just in time. Los Angeles is about to become one big party."

"Party's cancelled," Angel said menacingly and took a step forward.

Hawk tilted his head to one side. "I see, an unusual position for your firm to take."

"New management," Gunn said.

"Oh you're in trouble now." Cordelia turned to Hugo. The demon did not reply.

"Hank, Hugo, deal with our guests. I will look after Jake and the young lady."

Hank and Hugo started closing in on Angel and Gunn.

Gunn's cell phone rang. He quickly answered it and after a few seconds hung up. "Wes and Fred are on way, they're bringing the mojo to fix this with them."

Angel nodded. "We can take these guys. They don't look so tough." Even as he said the words the two brothers began to transform…

Their skin turned a slivery grey, muscles bulging, and they grew in height to six and a half feet. Their heads became almost football shaped and their faces flattened, eyes turning green and widening, noses receding completely to become two narrow slits. Their mouths expanded, becoming huge and filled with double rows of tightly packed teeth. Their fingers elongated, the index fingers ending in nasty claws.

Angel and Gunn took a nervous step back.

"Lookin' pretty tough now," Gunn sighed. In their rush to get here they hadn't armed up fully. Angel had a couple of stakes and a knife on him while Gunn was armed with nothing more than his fists and his razor sharp legal mind.

"Break the spell if you can," Angel said to Gunn. "Here." He handed Gunn the knife, figuring he would need it more.

"Right," Gunn nodded as he took the weapon. They separated, giving each other space to fight. Angel was taking on Hugo, Gunn was taking on Hank.

"You haven't a hope human," Hank said, his voice now deep and rasping. The demon stood still, baring his teeth and claws at Gunn.

"We'll see," Gunn replied, through he was concerned for the safety of his five-hundred dollar suit. It would do at all if he got blood, demon or his own, on it.

The demon flexed his claws, releasing several drops of venom that landed on the floor with a hiss and wisp of smoke. Gunn started worrying about his own safety.

"So how come you came yourself? Being CEO I presume you have plenty of employees," Hugo said.

"I'm a hands on boss," Angel replied, sizing up his opponent. He slipped a stake from his sleeve into his right hand.

"A vampire… The Partners must have finally gone senile in their old age," Hugo chuckled.

"Maybe they have," Angel joined the demon in a laugh. Suddenly Angel lunged forward, driving the stake into the demon's chest, hoping to hit his heart or other vital organ. The demon grunted in pain and surprise. Angel didn't wait to see how effective his attack had been. As he pulled the stake free he punched the demon hard in the face. As Hugo stumbled back Angel kicked him right on the chest wound. Hugo landed on his back.

"That hurt," the demon groaned.

"That was just the warm up," Angel quipped.

Hugo leapt up to his feet.

Gunn held the knife out in front of him, ready for the inevitable attack.

Angel immediately attacked again. This time Hugo blocked the vampire's punches, kicks and attempts to inflict further damage with the stake.

Hank stepped forward and aimed a low kick at Gunn's legs, which the lawyer easily avoided. Hank then unleashed a rapid series of slashes with his deadly claws. Gunn ducked and dodged, only just managing to avoid being cut.

Finally as Gunn ducked an attack from the right Hank unleashed a powerful left hook that hit him just below the right eye. Gunn went down. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

Hank kicked him hard in the ribs, sending the human rolling across the floor for ten feet.

When Gunn came to rest on his side, facing away from Hank, he remained unmoving.

Angel remained on the offensive and every four of five punches he would land a blow.

The red was now more than halfway down the red tendril.

Never before had Jake known such terror. Trapped. Unable to move. Unable to open his eyes. "Help me! Someone! Help me!" He yelled. No one responded. He felt so alone. So helpless and alone.

"Don't worry Jake everything will be okay!" Cordelia shouted to him. She need to be acting, she needed to be doing some good and the best she could do was try and make this better for Jake.

"Yes," Hawk looked at her, a vicious sparkle in his eyes, "Tell him that, it will make his suffering so much worse."

"Why are you doing this?" Cordy asked. "Aside from the whole evil demon thing."

"For chaos. For death and destruction."

Cordelia looked back over to Jake. "Try and stay calm, it'll be over soon!"

"Yes, it will," Hawk agreed.

Hank approached the fallen human, licking his lips and preparing to dine. He looked down at the man. With his foot he rolled the human onto his back. To his surprise the human suddenly jerked into movement.

Gunn took his chance; he knew that this was his one shot. He added his own movement to the roll and plunged the knife into the demon's belly.

Hank couldn't believe how easily he had been tricked. Gunn pushed himself up to his feet, tearing the blade up Hank's body as he did. He quickly withdrew the knife and stepped back as Hank lashed out with his claws. Drops of the deadly venom hissed on the floor. At the same time Hank's movement put internal pressure on the wound. Hank's abdomen split open like a grapefruit. Gunn looked away but heard the wet sounds of the demon's insides hitting the floor. Hank fell forward, landing on his own innards. He was groaning in agony. Again he lashed out at Gunn. Charles stepped back. A final moan signaled Hank's death.

"Brother!!" Hawk cried out in rage as Hank died.

Hugo and Angel both looked over to where Gunn was standing over the dead demon.

"Brother…" Hugo whimpered. Angel didn't hesitate for a second. He stabbed the stake into Hugo's left eye and released his hold on the wooden weapon. Hugo stood rigid for a couple of seconds and then collapsed.

"No!!" Hawk roared.

Jake suddenly felt a flutter of hope. Maybe this could end well after all.

Then the red energy touched the crystal. The black crystal instantly turned red and shone brightly. Next it shattered. Jake bolted upright, screaming.

Hawk glanced at Jake. "It is done," he hissed. "Now vengeance will be served." Hawk started towards Angel, transforming to his demon form as he did.

Cordelia took the opportunity and ran over to Jake. She quickly grabbed him and wrapped her arms round him.

"You're okay, it's over, you're okay," she said in a quiet, comforting voice.

Jake wept in her arms. "It's not over. I can feel it inside, inside my head."

Gunn stood at Angel's side. Hawk marched towards them, he looked very very angry.

"You both shall die!" Hawk declared.

Angel stepped forward, blocking the first two punches. Hawk however was not going to be stopped. He continued forward and head-butted Angel. Hawk quickly followed up with another two punches, both hitting Angel's face. A powerful left backhand sent Angel spiraling to the mall's floor.

Hawk turned to Gunn, who had taken up a defensive fighting stance. Hawk feigned a right hook and as Gunn shifted his weight to dodge he lashed out with a powerful kick, striking the human's chest.

Gunn flew back and landed hard face down on the floor. He slowly got himself back up onto his feet.

Hawk spun, again driving his fist into Angel's face as the vampire attempted to attack him from behind. Angel staggered back but managed to stay on his feet this time. Hawk delivered another devastating kick, sending Angel crashing through the large window of a shoe store. Angel smashed hard into a display of designer footwear.

"Please…stop what's happening to me," Jake begged. He pressed his hands to the sides of his head, wincing in pain. "I'm going to die this time… I don't want to die."

"We'll help you, we'll find a way. I promise," Cordelia said. "Try and calm down. Everything will be okay. Trust me."

Jake looked into her eyes and he believed her. "It hurts. It hurts so much. And I can feel it. This…evil…building up inside."

"Take deep breaths. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. We'll help you." Cordy hoped Angel finished off the demon soon. She needed his help to try and save this man.

Angel leapt out of the rubble of shelves, shoes and glass. His face was bruised and peppered with small cuts.

"You get one chance to tell me how to put a stop to this," Angel said as Hawk approached. Hawk stopped and glared at him.

"It cannot be stopped. It is too late. In a few minutes all that rage will surge through him and it is going to engulf the city. All those pathetic humans will tear this city, and each other, apart." Hawk laughed.

"There has to be a way," Angel insisted

Hawk's eyes widened. "You're not going to live to see the chaos, vampire." Hawk charged forward, roaring in rage and hatred. Angel dodged to the right at the last moment and with his left foot swept Hawk's legs out from under him. Angel spun. As Hawk hit the floor face down Angel stomped with his right foot. There was a wet crack as Angel's foot came down solidly on the back of the demon's neck. Angel waited a moment and once satisfied that the demon was dead he relaxed.

"Angel!" Cordelia yelled. Angel sprinted over to her.

"Cordy what are you…"

"Shopping," Cordy interrupted.

"Make it stop!" Jake grimaced as Gunn joined them.

"Call Wesley," Angel said to the lawyer. "He's on his way with some spell to fix this," he told Cordelia.

Gunn nodded, pulling out his cell phone.

"We have to help him," Cordelia said.

"Help me. It's…almost here," Jake fell to his knees on the floor, sobbing.

"Wes and Fred just arrived, they'll be here in a minute. Wes says he can get the energy out safely without risk to Jake or anyone else," Gunn reported.

Angel nodded.

"You hear that Jake, in a couple of minutes it will be over. Just hold on a minute more."

"I can't…I.." Jake was cut off by pain, his eyes widened. His mind filled with agony beyond anything he had ever felt before. His arms flopped to his sides.

There came the sound of running footsteps. Cordelia and Gunn looked over; Wes and Fred were running towards them. "Hurry!" Cordelia yelled.

A soft cry escaped Jake's lips. He looked up at Angel. Angel looked the young man in the eyes. He felt a tingle of electricity in the air and he knew it was too late.

"Hurry!" Cordy shouted again. Wes and Fred were less than ten seconds way.

Angel grabbed Jake's head and in one sharp motion snapped the man's neck.

The buzz in the air vanished.

Cordelia spun and saw Jake fall sideways. Jake's eyes were wide, lifeless. Peaceful.

Wesley and Fred arrived, both out of breath. Gunn, Wes and Fred looked at the somber scene.

Jake; dead on the floor.

Angel standing over him.

A tear ran down Cordelia's cheek.

Jake's suffering was over.

The rage had no way of being released.

**ENVOI**

Angel was staring out at the darkening city through the window of his penthouse apartment at Wolfram and Hart.

Cordelia was sitting on a couch.

Finally Angel turned to her. "I had to. There was no choice."

Cordelia looked at him. "Wesley was there. Just a minute more and everything would have been fine."

"It was too late. We didn't have a minute," Angel could clearly see Jake's face in his mind. He could see the look in his eyes, the suffering he was enduring and the acceptance that his life was over.

"You don't know that for sure. He was an innocent man." Cordy leaned forward in her seat. "Angel we're supposed to help innocent people. I promised him he'd be okay."

"It was his life against thousands, hundreds of thousands. It was too late. He knew it, I could see it in his eyes. It was the only way to be sure," Angel sighed. Today had most definitely not been a good day. He had been forced to make an awful split-second choice: Risk the lives of everyone in the city for a chance to save one man; or kill one man in order to be certain of preventing the death and destruction the rage would have caused. There had been no option but to kill Jake Reynolds. Angel was sure of it. For the greater good it had to be done.

That knowledge didn't make it any easier. It didn't change that fact that Angel had killed an innocent man who, through no fault of his own, had been used by evil. Jake had been terrified and in agony, begging for help.

Angel would have to live with what he had done.

"You can't know that for sure. There might have been time."

"I couldn't take that risk Cordy, I couldn't risk the city for one man."

For several seconds she didn't respond. She looked away out the window at the darkening city.

"Jake was helpless. We used to help the helpless." Cordelia stood.

"Cordy I…"

"Angel." Cordelia shook her head. "I thought I could but…I can't." She turned and started for the elevator.

"Wait. Where?"

"Away from this place. Away from this city. I need time to think. I want to be with you, all of you. But…" Cordelia held Angel's gaze.

"Stay," he said.

"I can't," she was struggling to contain her emotion. She pressed the call button for the lift.

"Are you coming back?"

"I don't know." The elevator doors slid open. She looked up to see Wesley standing in the lift.

"Cordelia," he greeted. "I'm sorry. If I could have been any quicker..."

"I know you did your best," Cordelia said. Wesley stepped out of the elevator and Cordelia stepped in. "I'll see you around."

Angel and Cordelia shared a final look as the doors closed. Wesley waited a few moments before speaking.

"I know you wouldn't have done it unless you had too," he offered.

Angel nodded. "What can I do for you Wes?"

"There is something we need to discuss, regarding MalKlan."

--------------------------

Daniel Forest looked over his shoulder at the tattoo in the mirror. It branded him a follower of MalKlan, a servant of evil.

He would serve evil. When the right time came he would stand and fight against it. For now he had to serve it. He vowed not to fail in his noble cause.

--------------------------

Imogen knew the times ahead would be hard, especially on Daniel. She was certain that he would do what needed to be done in the name of the greater good. She knew it would cost him dearly. He would have to do monstrous things. It would likely cost him his soul.

He knew the price and he would pay it to fight against evil. She knew that her brother was a truly good man.

--------------------------

There was a simple funeral for Jake Reynolds several days later. It was attended by his family, his co-workers and a young woman no one else there knew. A woman with her arm in a sling.

Before she left she was heard saying two words into the still open grave.

"I'm sorry."


	6. Envoi

**ENVOI**

Angel was staring out at the darkening city through the window of his penthouse apartment at Wolfram and Hart.

Cordelia was sitting on a couch.

Finally Angel turned to her. "I had to. There was no choice."

Cordelia looked at him. "Wesley was there. Just a minute more and everything would have been fine."

"It was too late. We didn't have a minute," Angel could clearly see Jake's face in his mind. He could see the look in his eyes, the suffering he was enduring and the acceptance that his life was over.

"You don't know that for sure. He was an innocent man." Cordy leaned forward in her seat. "Angel we're supposed to help innocent people. I promised him he'd be okay."

"It was his life against thousands, hundreds of thousands. It was too late. He knew it, I could see it in his eyes. It was the only way to be sure," Angel sighed. Today had most definitely not been a good day. He had been forced to make an awful split-second choice: Risk the lives of everyone in the city for a chance to save one man; or kill one man in order to be certain of preventing the death and destruction the rage would have caused. There had been no option but to kill Jake Reynolds. Angel was sure of it. For the greater good it had to be done.

That knowledge didn't make it any easier. It didn't change that fact that Angel had killed an innocent man who, through no fault of his own, had been used by evil. Jake had been terrified and in agony, begging for help.

Angel would have to live with what he had done.

"You can't know that for sure. There might have been time."

"I couldn't take that risk Cordy, I couldn't risk the city for one man."

For several seconds she didn't respond. She looked away out the window at the darkening city.

"Jake was helpless. We used to help the helpless." Cordelia stood.

"Cordy I…"

"Angel." Cordelia shook her head. "I thought I could but…I can't." She turned and started for the elevator.

"Wait. Where?"

"Away from this place. Away from this city. I need time to think. I want to be with you, all of you. But…" Cordelia held Angel's gaze.

"Stay," he said.

"I can't," she was struggling to contain her emotion. She pressed the call button for the lift.

"Are you coming back?"

"I don't know." The elevator doors slid open. She looked up to see Wesley standing in the lift.

"Cordelia," he greeted. "I'm sorry. If I could have been any quicker..."

"I know you did your best," Cordelia said. Wesley stepped out of the elevator and Cordelia stepped in. "I'll see you around."

Angel and Cordelia shared a final look as the doors closed. Wesley waited a few moments before speaking.

"I know you wouldn't have done it unless you had too," he offered.

Angel nodded. "What can I do for you Wes?"

"There is something we need to discuss, regarding MalKlan."

--------------------------

Daniel Forest looked over his shoulder at the tattoo in the mirror. It branded him a follower of MalKlan, a servant of evil.

He would serve evil. When the right time came he would stand and fight against it. For now he had to serve it. He vowed not to fail in his noble cause.

--------------------------

Imogen knew the times ahead would be hard, especially on Daniel. She was certain that he would do what needed to be done in the name of the greater good. She knew it would cost him dearly. He would have to do monstrous things. It would likely cost him his soul.

He knew the price and he would pay it to fight against evil. She knew that her brother was a truly good man.

--------------------------

There was a simple funeral for Jake Reynolds several days later. It was attended by his family, his co-workers and a young woman no one else there knew. A woman with her arm in a sling.

Before she left she was heard saying two words into the still open grave.

"I'm sorry."

NOTE:

Thank you kindly for reading, again a big thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment. Reviews are HUGELY appreciated.

Alas real life is catching up with me fast so the next episode will probably be delayed a little.

Episode 5x03 "Bullet"

After a shooting outside the Wolfram and Hart building the team race against time when the life of one of their own hangs in the balance.


End file.
